16 December, 2009

When Logan Get's Real

What would happen if I disconnected from the "digital world" for a while?
I am very seriously considering it. I'm seriously considering severing all connections to the digital world...other than email and basic internet service.

You dare cry foul? Well eff you.
You ask how I might sever myself from the "digital world" whilst still maintaining internet and basic email? Come on, be serious here. Email has been around since the 1970's and has been a part of daily life for many of us for almost 20 years.
Same with the internet.
I mean I remember logging on to Prodigy, akin to AOL, back on my dad's old Apple Performa 475 using what was probably a 14.4kbit/s modem. I was probably 9.

So no, email is no longer part of the "digital world" because in my life, it's just been around way too long. I've sent THOUSANDS more emails in my lifetime than I ever have, or could ever hope to send of the paper kind. And without the internet, email doesn't work. So it's lumped in too.
So to recap...
Eff you.

No the nebula of the "digital world" is something more today. It is social. It is viral. It is twitter trends, facebook statuses and blog posts. E-commerce (which is old people speak for online shopping) now stands on level ground with brick-and-mortar Black Friday sales. The age of the newspaper is dying with our aging grandfathers. The Kindle and Nook are filling niches we never knew needed nurturing. Rather than pay $18.95 for book to read, we now pay $300 for a device that lets us buy and view a book digitally that we still pay $18.95 for.
What the hell?

We spend money to save money and aspire to things that we used to be able to afford before the economy took a nose dive. Will I ever be able to afford a house? Will I ever be able to afford even the 30% down payment on the house that I use to not be able to afford? Did my earning potential just duck below another glass ceiling?

So do I really have time to be worrying about Twitter Trends? Does anyone really care about my facebook status? Is linking my twitter feed with my facebook status updates to kill two birds with one stone really as desperately pathetic as it sounds?
If I fail to blog, will anyone miss anything because I didn't write it down and record it for the whole world to see?

Is it possible that my world could actually feel more fulfilling if I tried cramming less into it?
Would I have more time?
Would I feel more alone?
What am I really getting out of this?

So, to sever the tie, or to not sever the tie...that is the question.

Everything I know about advertising, networking, connections, socializing, relationships and inter-connectivity begs me not to do it.
Everything I know about...well, everything else, says it might just be getting in the way.

10 December, 2009

Like, Totally Gross

 Oh gosh, I am a mess today. The mask of cologne I'm wearing only serves to better distinguish how bad my murky body odors smells. My fingernails, not clipped in ages are gorgeous, healthy and chip-free, but totally inapproptiate for a heterosexual male like myself. My feet, somehow both damply stinky and yet dried out, occupy the same brown skate shoes I've slipped on nearly every day for the last month. My shirt, littered with tiny bits of dog hair and down feathers serves not one, but two purposes today: first, a simple, visual meter for how dirty I am and second, a perfect stencil for showing where all my man-boob sweat pools. My nose, crowned by an unploughed uni-brow of shame, bristles and shines with the sniffles, snots and dried hangers that plague such nasty folk as sick 3rd graders and Antarctic fisherman. 
Tomorrow is a new day.

09 December, 2009

My Life According To Twitter

Don't you hate it when you get all jazzed up to watch a rerun episode of an old show you love, like the Fresh Prince of Bell Air or Saved By The Bell, only to discover that its one of those stupid flashback episodes where everyone trips out into a dream sequence, remembering an incident that happened in a previous episode? Doesn't it just seem lazy, like they couldn't come up with fresh story line, so they just pulled the cast together for an hour and shot them reminiscing so they could just cut in old footage?
Well that's exactly what I've done here, but with a modern twist. Here are some Twitter highlights from the last couple months since I've been back from Chicago. They are in no particular order other than reverse order, so feel free to read top to bottom or bottom to top. I know it's lame, but try to enjoy.


Something feels good about this morning. Something feels empowering about this morning. Something feels...oh, its already 1:30pm.

How have I waited 5 years to watch the heart-felt, bubble gum pop masterpiece 13 Going On 30? My giggling tears of joy will not cease!

I am officially retiring from peeing standing up. Too much responsibility involved.

My beard-dandruff is sending me a message: take a friggin' shower.

I'm looking forward to the small successes of the day. I even plan on getting dressed for the day in about a half hour. (It was 4:30 in the afternoon when I tweeted this.)

It's the Nyquil induced coma that keeps me going.

Oh so THIS is what they were talking about when they said having a newborn was rough.  

I was sitting here in the hospital trying to fall asleep and the urgent thought crossed my mind, "I wonder what Christopher Lloyd is up to?

Today was epic. Absolutely biblical. How can anyone fully process the act of childbirth? My mind is thoroughly and completely blown.

Ok, 10+ hours in the hospital. This baby really needs to get a move on.

I wish I could call the Hannah Montana Sunday marathon a compromise in viewing interests, but my wife isn't even in the room anymore.

If Kylie Minogue and Amy Winehouse had a baby (dont question the logistics) her name would be Lady Gaga.

Not bad New Moon, not bad. But I'm totally Team Jacob.

My friend used to hide cookies in the elevator of our apt building in Chicago. For no reason.

Somehow its Sunday. Wasn't it just Tuesday? Well it was, but not so recently I gather.

My non-facebook savvy wife just discovered her profile said "interested in women" and has been set as such since day 1.

Where The Wld Things Are is a sucky, stupid, boring way to waste a Wednesday matinee and a pack of Maverick chicken bites and honey mustard.

Google it. Its true.

Perpetual exhaustion. I miss my Swedish inflatable mattress from Chicago. I'm not cut out for real beds.

The girl sitting next to me at the airport smells let wet, sour, peeled, but uncooked potatos.             

07 December, 2009

LARPing Like My Life Depends On It

I just googled, "How to make your own wax stamp." With the results came the realization that I am painfully strange as a person.
Sure, on the outside I put my best foot forward and try to project the coolest, hippest, most in-the-know vibe I possibly can while in public. But if you've known me for very long, you've seen that facade flicker and my true awkwardness shine through.
I admit, if it were more accessible, I'd probably get into super strange, uber-nerdy things like LARPing, Dungeons and Dragons and taxidermy. What's LARPing you ask? Well literally defined it is Live Action Role Playing. But really, it is so much more.

You've heard of the MMORPG (Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game) fantasy game World of Warcraft right? Well imagine if that magical and enchanting world of make believe came to life!!! You gasping at the sheer prospect, I know.
Well make believe becomes reality with LARPing. It's exactly as it sounds: the real life execution of a role playing action game....LARPing.

This is what World of Warcraft game play looks like. WARNING: Some Foul Language

And this little gem of a clip is LARPing based on Warcraft. It's gloriously funny.

So long story short, I am SO not hip. I don't follow the cool trends, I don't dress cool, I don't own an Apple computer nor an iPhone. I watch Disney Channel, Travel Channel and HGTV. I shop at Ross, Target and Burlington Coat Factory. I buy my books off Amazon or from local used book stores and I love to collect computer parts "just in case."
Is it too late to be cool?
Does it matter?
Would I want to sacrifice everything I am and know to be just a little bit more hip?
Am I damning myself further by continually using the word hip since it's surely no longer en vogue?
Either way, I need to finish my research into the world of making my own wax stamp, so I best be off.
Happy LARPing.

05 December, 2009

Trapped In Hibernation

It's amazing how mesmerizing a dark, cold basement can be. It's like falling into a dark, cold lake and sinking to the bottom; the deeper and darker you sink, they less will and energy you have to claw your way out. Now imagine if that lake bottom had a computer, WIFI, XBOX360, a bed, food and a space heater. YOU'D NEVER LEAVE!

I am currently suffocating in the icy depth of my parents basement. My to-do list is as long as it is wide and I'm running out of Exedrin Tension Headache. I look up to all my smart, successful and driven friends on the internet. Friends who've accomplished fantastic feats not only in general, but in this disastrous economy of ours.
I'm proud of them.
I'm jealous.
I'm hating them just  tiny bit.

I've got a few cases of pop left and a huge stash of Crystal Light single serving packs. I certainly won't die down here, but I miss the smell of the outdoors and the warmth of the sun on my skin during a cold winters day.
Invite me to lunch.
Invite me to breakfast.
I'll hate you just a tiny bit less.

See you tomorrow.

04 December, 2009

The Game of Life

So it's December 4, 2009. No, I get it. Don't worry, I've been getting your emails alerting me to the fact that it's been a bit of a while. I'm sorry. But I spend a lot of time apologizing for myself on this blog, so we'll just assume that as a given and skip it for now. I'm sorry, I'll do better, BLA, BLA, BLA.

Life has been happening and moving forward whether I like it or not and independent of how hard I try to stop it or slow it down. Now more than ever I'm realizing this reality. Days fly by, weeks topple over into months and before you know it, you're in a whole different place in life and you can't sit by idly and let it happen without you.

Chicago ended. It was phenomenal. What an amazing city and what an amazing opportunity for me. Being home in Utah and jumping in and out of the car all the time makes me miss more than ever the laborious and glorious task of walking. Living in the Gold Coast, we were only a short 30min walk from the epicenter of downtown and the walk was no yawner either. High end boutiques, electronics shops, clothing stores, malls, exotic car dealerships and fine dining lined the path to and from how every which way you walked. I miss it. I miss getting sore feet and hopping on the L-train for some podiatric relief. I miss the smell of pee in dark corners and in the under ground. I miss the literally breathtaking scent of it emanating from the drunk and homeless. I miss walking home at midnight from work, meandering the glitz and glam of the closed and gated shops that line Michigan Ave. I miss exploring new routes during my urban trekking, turning back only when streetlights became to successively dark. I miss Chicago a lot. I even miss missing my wife while I lived in Chicago. What a wonderful city.

Home again. This is when the fairytale ended. The momentum, excitement and habits I had accrued during my time in Chicago ground to a halt like a locked up locomotive wheel. I was just happy to be back with my wife, sit on the couch and enjoy some good old fashioned TV; some things I had learned to live without in Chicago. Bad habits die hard and before long, I was back to my lazy self. I tried hard to work and keep things in motion so that my brain wouldn't atrophy and die, but I am indeed my own worst enemy. It was a losing battle.

Not a gas bubble. Despite my suspicions, that huge stomach of my wife's was in fact a baby. A real life baby. Human even. And on Nov. 25 at 5:52pm, after 12+ of labor and 2 hours of active labor, that baby decided to show his face.
Childbirth is traumatizing. Anyone who tells you it's a miracle isn't lying, but they are omitting the fact that you may not be able to hold food down for a few days after witnessing it. Sell your stock in the stork theory, because I can attest to the fact that 8+lb babies do come out from down there. It may be a miracle, but it's something crazy to witness. You get what I'm telling you? It's like seeing someone get hit by a car. You can't pull your eyes away but its frightening and you look both ways before crossing the street for the rest of your life.

PART 3- Secton 2
Olin Tanner is here. There was a heated debate raging over whether he should be named Olin or Ohlin, with the added H. I liked the H and preferred it without question to the sans H spelling, but ultimately conceded not to my wife, but to mass public opinion. Kristen was game for whatever but in my bitterness, I let her have her Olin without the H. I'll prove my point by mocking the spelling of his name by mispronouncing it for the rest of his life.
But he's good so far. Sleeps 2-3 hours in between feeding and really doesn't cry much. Due in great part to my lack of breast milk, I've been spared having to wake up and help him drink away his problems every few hours. My wife is doll and handles this new addition to our lives like she's done this many times before. What a saint. It's great to see her fit into this role like a perfectly hewn puzzle piece. It's my new reality. It's my new life and I think I just might be OK with it. In fact, I just might love it.

So that's my life. I'm trying to break through the glass ceiling I've constructed for myself and really get going on making some good stuff happen for myself. I've got the creativity, I've got the excitement and I've got the desire to be successful, I just need to reach down deep and find the urgency. You'd think unemployment, a newborn baby and no current prospects would surround me with impending doom and conjure up that urgency, but somehow, I'm a master of distraction and keep myself aloof. I'm like a kitten with a laser pointer strapped to its paw. Ridiculous.